


fever game

by yesterday



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Peter, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Chris, Toys, slight Breeding Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-14
Updated: 2017-10-14
Packaged: 2019-01-17 03:23:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12356433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yesterday/pseuds/yesterday
Summary: “He gets so needy,” Peter said. “I should take him home before we get slapped with a public indecency charge.”By now, Chris was trembling, sweat beaded on his brow, practically pushing himself against Peter.Silence stretched out in the alley. Two alpha werewolves and a single omega. It was like the beginning to a bad joke, or a cliché adult film. Probably most pornos didn’t end with one of the alphas eviscerating the other two, however.





	fever game

The scent was getting to him. 

Sweet, fevered snatches of it haunted him. Peter had a good nose— arguably the best nose in the ragtag assembly of werewolves present at Beacon Hills, but even before that, back when the Hale pack flourished, he was a cut above everyone else. 

Which was why it was damnably frustrating how difficult of a time he was having pinpointing the source of it. From his morning coffee run to his slow amble into a favourite used bookstore of his, he caught a whiff of the same scent at every corner. He knew what it was, of course. The beginnings of an omega’s heat, muted but seeping through the cracks.

By early afternoon, he confirmed what he suspected. An omega was tailing him. It was something of a relief, considering the alpha pack in town. Better an omega than a pack of alphas. That was one fray he didn’t care to get in the middle of. 

No, it was the lesser of two evils. And he had a good idea who his shadow was. 

When Chris Argent came creeping down the alley, Peter was waiting for him, hands in his pockets and avoiding the grimy brick wall of the building behind him. Chris’s expression flickered before smoothing over into impassivity. 

Impressive. 

His scent wasn’t tamped down like it usually was, and in the general derelict of the alley, it stood out. 

“You know,” Peter said, “I’m fairly sure stalking is considered a crime.” 

Argent said, “So is murder.” 

“Apples and oranges.” And then because he didn’t want to waste time on a hunter, Peter cut to the chase. “Why are you following me?” 

Chris kept his counsel, and Peter considered his options. There was sure to be a fuss if he killed the man, although he’s reasonably sure he could pin it on the alpha pack. But a hunter was bound to be a handy piece to have around, considering the recent werewolf infestation. 

“The alpha pack is in town,” Chris said, interrupting Peter’s thoughts. 

“I’m aware.” 

“Then you know how they work. Are you going to kill Derek and join them?” 

“Straight to the point,” Peter said, eyebrows raised.

“You and I both know time is the one thing we don’t have.” 

“The better question is, are you in any state to be worrying about me?” Peter drifted closer to Chris, circling him and breathing in deeply. Chris was glassy-eyed even as he stared Peter down. 

“I’m fine,” Chris said. 

“Oh,” Peter said, feigning surprise. “Don’t tell me you didn’t notice. Or did you wake up this morning and tell yourself you were only feeling off because you were coming down with something? A fever, maybe.” 

He leaned in and sniffed the crook of Chris’s neck. Chris, who was rigid and _omega_ and wandering around at his most vulnerable: the start of his heat. A trickle of interest stirred in him, and he took a deliberate step away. That wasn’t happening. 

“I can smell it on you,” he said instead.

“You’re wrong,” Chris said. “It’s too soon—”

He broke off, the frown between his brows darkening. Peter watched in faint fascination as Chris swore under his breath and pivoted, making his exit. Presumably to run home and ride out the worst of it. Sensible of him. 

Chris was nearly out of the alley before Peter heard it— a gentle, rhythmic tapping. At the mouth of the alley, backlit by the setting sun, stood Deucalion, his cane extended mere feet from Chris. Power roiled through the small side street. Peter stiffened. Chris took half a step back. His hand crept towards his gun. Peter blinked, and slunk into the shadows. 

“Gentlemen,” Deucalion said. “Having a clandestine meeting, are we?” 

Well, so much for that. Deucalion advanced, and for a heartbeat, Peter thought Chris was going to stand his ground, stubborn bastard of a hunter he was. 

If Chris Argent wanted to try and take on an alpha werewolf alone, that was fine by Peter. He wasn’t the one putting his life on the line. He should run. This was the perfect opportunity, since Chris was reeking more and more of his heat with every passing second, the sweet, heady scent intoxicating. Against Deucalion, Peter’s odds weren’t great. He could throw Chris to the wolves— or wolf, in this case. Use him as a distraction long enough for him to slip off.

Chris had turned partway, glancing at Peter. Peter shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

“Peter,” Chris said, and Peter stilled. Damn him.

The faintest note of a plea in the two syllables of his name that had Peter torn between imagining what it would sound like to have Chris Argent spread out beneath him, and cursing Argent for such an obvious play at his instincts. 

He looked past Chris to Deucalion, who was watching the tableau with interest. Watching as much as a blind man could, anyway.

“This is unexpected. The omega Argent son and Peter Hale,” Deucalion said thoughtfully. 

So much for that plan. Peter exhaled slowly, and sighed.

“Is it? I thought it only fair,” Peter said. “Come here, Christopher.” 

Chris backed away from Deucalion, retreating further into the alley and into the drape of Peter’s arm. He’s hot against his side, a solid line of lean muscle and far gone enough that Peter’s mouth watered at the scent of him. 

“Fair.” The cane and sunglasses were mostly for show, Peter decided. Because even with a werewolf’s senses, Deucalion’s blind gaze was locked right on them. “Yes, I suppose it’s poetic in its own way. Him and his take something of yours, you take something of his.”

Beside him, Chris was stiff with anger. He smelled so good. Peter let his hand drop from shoulder to hip to the curve of his ass, thumb rubbing over the growing wet spot on his jeans. Chris couldn’t muffle his moan, or didn’t bother to, pushing into Peter’s touch. 

“I had a proposition for you, but I can tell you're going to be occupied for a while.” 

A decidedly interested note had entered Deucalion’s voice, and Peter held himself back from bristling— just barely. Instinct would make it nearly impossible for him to keep from attacking Deucalion if he got any closer to the omega clinging to him, all pheromones and low grade arousal.

Peter would applaud Chris Argent for using biology to his advantage if he weren't part of the manipulation. Instead, he tried his best to breathe through his mouth.

“He gets so needy,” Peter said. “I should take him home before we get slapped with a public indecency charge.”

By now, Chris was trembling, sweat beaded on his brow, practically pushing himself against Peter.  


Silence stretched out in the alley. Two alpha werewolves and a single omega. It was like the beginning to a bad joke, or a cliché adult film. Probably most pornos didn’t end with one of the alphas eviscerating the other two, however.

Deucalion nodded. “Yes, I think you'd best go. I hate to cut our conversation short, but I'm sure this won't be the last time we'll meet.”

“I'm sure,” Peter drawled. He ushered Chris out from the other end of the alley without turning his back on Deucalion, who followed the entire length of their exit, and only when Peter turned the corner did he loosen his grip of Chris’s hip.

Chris, who was turning heads, the pheromone bait of his heat carried on the breeze. The Tahoe was parked two long blocks away, behind his own car. Peter fished the keys out from Chris’s jacket pocket. He all but shoved Chris into the car, fingers lingering on the rough weave of his sleeve.

“Go home, Argent,” he said roughly.

Chris stared at him, pupils dilated and heartbeat erratic. He licked his lips, and Peter’s eyes caught on the slick pink of his mouth.

He shook his head. 

“What's wrong, Hale? You don't think you can handle one omega’s heat?” 

“You can't be serious.” 

“Get in the car,” Chris growled. 

“If we're doing this,” Peter said, shoving Chris into the passenger’s seat, “I'm driving.”

\---

Peter’s back slammed against the apartment wall. The coffee table in the hallway glanced off his hip. His nails scrabbled against it and he shoved it out of the way while Chris plastered himself to Peter’s front. Chris kissed him desperately, like every press of their lips was a breath of air, tongue sliding slick and deep into his mouth. He tasted sweet and irresistible; Peter couldn’t get enough of it. 

A moment later, he put his hands on Chris’s hips and flipped their positions. Chris growled at him when his head hit the wall, and he struggled to push Peter’s weight off of him. 

“Asshole,” he said, breathless and tousled. 

“Fragile little human,” Peter retorted, and felt the back of Chris’s head. No blood, probably wouldn’t turn into anything more than a bit of a bump. Chris hissed, and Peter scoffed at him. “You’ll live.” 

They left a trail of clothing in their wake, with two casualties. A shredded shirt (courtesy of Peter), ruined jeans (courtesy of Chris, in retaliation for Peter ripping up his favourite shirt.

Chris shoved Peter back and pinned him to the bed, grinding over his cock. He was wet, slick smeared all over his thighs and Peter’s dick. Peter wanted to fuck up into the tight clutch of Chris’s body, give him something to actually have up his ass with that attitude of his, but he wanted to see what Chris would do. See what lengths his heat would drive him to. 

He ran his hand up the flat, muscled planes of Chris’s stomach, circling a nipple and watching it draw tight under his thumb. Chris made an irritated noise, and caught Peter by the wrist. He pinned them down on the bed, next to Peter’s head. Peter let him. There would be plenty of time for him to touch later, when Chris was so deep in his heat he could barely think straight. 

His eyes ran over the angry curve of Chris’s cock, the flex of his legs as he lifted himself up and lined himself up before sinking down on Peter in a single stroke, right to the hilt. He was hot and tight inside, every inch of him clinging to Peter’s cock like he never wanted to let go.

Peter groaned, snapping his hips up like he could get deeper if he tried hard enough. Chris leaned down and bit the crook of his neck, eyes bright and pale. The flat human incisors of Chris’s teeth couldn’t break skin, but Peter felt the blood vessels break beneath, bruising and healing over in two breaths.

Chris rode him like that, fast and hard, bouncing on his lap with his head thrown back and back arched. His chest heaved with every inhale and exhale, a tremulous exaltation leaving his parted lips every time Peter’s cock was swallowed up in him. Once Peter’s hands were free, Chris having relinquished them in favour of fisting the sheets, he gripped the swell of Chris’s ass, kneading his cheeks. Chris seemed to like that, if his throaty moans were any indication. 

“Give me it,” he snarled. If Chris were a wolf, Peter suspected his eyes would be flashing. “Give me your knot.” 

“Demanding, but I expected nothing less.” If Peter was breathless, well. Why wouldn’t he be, with an omega riding him like there was no tomorrow? Even if said omega was Chris Argent. 

He dragged his hand delicately over Chris’s cock, rolling his thumb over the head in slow circles. Chris’s hips stuttered, and he clenched tight around Peter, whose knot was swelling steadily, catching on the rim of his hole. When there was nowhere left for it to go but in, he ground it against Chris, who made a noise like he’d been stabbed, bearing down on him. Cum spattered over Peter’s stomach and chest.

With a snarl, he dug his claws into Chris’s hips, coming in him in a relentless flood, Chris’s insides milking every last drop from him. Chris collapsed bonelessly on him after that, knocking the air from Peter’s lungs. 

They lounged in silence for a while, Peter listening to the rapid hammering of Chris’s heartbeat gradually ease off. He was sticky. 

Finally, Chris lifted his head long enough to make demands. “Get your claws out of me.” 

Not to subscribe to any of the typical stereotypes, but Chris Argent was nothing like the perpetuated myth of a meek and docile omega. 

“You’re the worst tempered omega I’ve ever slept with,” Peter said, and let go. Drops of blood oozed up in the holes left behind. Chris staunched them with the sheets. Peter wrinkled his nose, but fine. He had that coming. 

After he was done, Chris went limp again. It wasn’t terrible, if Peter had to admit it. He liked the close contact, the heavy blanket of an omega on him. 

“You were going to leave me to Deucalion,” Chris said, the slow gravel of his words buzzing against Peter’s skin. He sounded halfway gone, but more lucid than earlier. 

Peter didn’t deny it, but said, “You used me first.”

“A good alpha looks out for omegas,” Chris said.

“I’m fucking you, aren’t I?” 

“Yeah,” Chris said, “well, you’re lucky your dick makes up for your personality.” 

“I’d like to go back to the part where you’re incoherent from heat again, I think.” 

Chris snorted, and Peter lifted him off his lap, his knot gone down far enough to slip out of him. Cum and slick trickled from Chris, who made a distinctly dissatisfied noise. 

It turned into a whine when Peter laid him flat and pulled his legs over his shoulders and started to eat him out. He’s sloppy, laving his tongue over Chris’s slick and slightly open hole, getting all the leftover cum out. By the time he’s done, Chris’s thighs were scraped raw and soft from his stubble, and he’s got his hands twisted in Peter’s hair, swearing.

“Fuck, fuck, _Peter_ —” he gasped. “Fuck me.” 

White noise rushed in his ears. The taste of Chris lingered heavy on his tongue, and he was dizzy from the scent of Chris’s heat and want. All those pheromones everywhere. An alpha couldn’t get away with being affected by an omega’s heat scent, and Peter was in full blast zone. 

But it wasn’t any hardship to put Chris on his belly and slide into him again, driving into him relentlessly. He fucked him hard, Chris making a tiny, punched out noise on each thrust that got him going. Chris’s fingers were scrabbling across the bed for purchase, legs spread wide, trying to get Peter that much deeper inside him. He wouldn’t stop moving, so Peter put his teeth to the nape of Chris’s neck in warning, pinning him in place. 

To his utter surprise and pleasure, Chris submitted beautifully with a quiet keen, melting under him. His face was buried against the sheets, and all Peter could see was the flush suffusing his neck and shoulders, hear his soft, muffled moans. Chris had been nearly silent the first round, every sound clamped down and locked away tightly, whereas now, he was too far gone to care. That much was obvious when Peter tugged his head up to kiss him. Chris’s eyes were blown dark and glassy, the slide of his mouth against Peter’s more than a little desperate. He was gorgeous. The alpha wanted to breed him full, knot him until their scents went from Chris and Peter to _ChrisandPeter_. 

But that was just the alpha brain talking. 

The second time Chris came, it was from nothing but the press of Peter’s cock over and over again on that bundle of nerves in him, Peter’s mouth trailing a line of kisses down his spine. He went tight around Peter with a soft whine, locking down on his knot. Like a chain reaction, Peter’s orgasm was dragged right out of him, and he filled Chris up again. Marked him from the inside out. A pleased rumble escaped him, and he flopped down panting over Chris, nuzzling the side of his neck. 

Chris had his eyes closed, and he was breathing hard. A sheen of sweat covered his brow. He opened his eyes a fraction, blinking languidly, saw Peter looking at him, and raised an eyebrow. He said nothing, but raised one hand and carded it through Peter’s hair, practically petting him. 

It was rinse and repeat after that. They fucked, passed out, woke up and fucked again. At one point when Peter was awake but Chris wasn’t, he took the liberty of texting the baby Argent with her father’s home, warning her to stay with Lydia. 

He found, amusingly enough, a drawer full of toys in Chris’s room. 

One of which he worked into Chris an inch at a time, the flared head stretching his hole open. Chris writhed against it, trying to get more, only for Peter to hold him down. Under normal circumstances, he was sure Chris could have broken free. He told Chris as much, and added:

“But you want it too badly to, don’t you?” he said, popping the head of the toy in. Chris’s replying groan was utterly filthy and drawn out. 

“Bastard,” he rasped out. He rolled his hips forward once Peter let go of him in favour of placing his palm flat against the side of Chris’s knee. He nudged it aside to get a better look as he pushed the toy in. It went easily, Chris’s body stretching around it. He was still slick enough that the pillow propped under his hips was damp. 

The toy had a fat head, tapering down in the center before the fake knot abruptly formed on it. It was matte black, and Peter was tickled by the fact that Chris Argent had a sex toy drawer at all, never mind several knotting dildos. 

“It’s good quality, I’ll give you that.” He slid it in just a little deeper. Chris growled. “But I have to wonder, how does it compare to a real knot?” 

“Usually,” Chris said, “it means I don’t have to deal with the smartass alpha attached to the knot.” 

Peter laughed. “So you prefer it.” 

He pushed the knot up right against the rim of Chris’s hole, teasing him with it. Chris’s moment of lucidity seemed to pass, and he whined low in his throat, at a pitch meant to make alphas indulgent. Not even Peter was immune. 

The knot popped into Chris easily; he was already stretched out and loose. He tilted his hips up to take it, nearly arching completely off the bed. Peter pressed the button hidden at the base of the toy, and a soft buzz filled the air. Chris collapsed and quaked, jolting when Peter took him into his mouth and pressed the fake knot with unerring precision on his prostate. It wasn’t hard. Chris’s scent would spike every time, spicy and warm, and he was delicious against the flat of Peter’s tongue. 

Chris was shaking, thighs trembling on either side of Peter as he tried to thrust up into the hot heat of Peter’s mouth and grind down on the knot at the same time. When Peter turned the vibration up another notch, he came with a shout, spilling inside Peter’s mouth. He drew out every last drop from Chris. Chris, who tried to pull away only to tug at the knot in him, base held in place by Peter, and spasmed, another spurt of cum leaking from his cock.

Only when Chris was boneless and exhausted did Peter pull the dildo out, Chris groaning.

Peter was aching, painfully hard in his hand when he lined himself up with Chris. It was a relief to slide into the velvety heat of him. Chris’s body was slack from orgasm, but he tightened up when Peter started to fuck him hard and fast. 

Chris whined. Too sensitive still, maybe. 

“Hush,” Peter crooned, nosing at his neck, kissing it.

A fresh wave of slick smoothed the way, and the alpha pushed his way to the forefront of Peter’s mind, focused satisfying the omega underneath him and chasing his own release. 

“I can’t— fuck, Peter, I can’t-”

“You can,” he said, hitching Chris’s legs up to his chest, folding him in half. “You can take it. You’ll be a good omega for me, won’t you?”

He smothered any further protests from Chris with his mouth, kissing him hungrily, lapping at every corner of his mouth. Before long, Chris was meeting him thrust for thrust again, the sound of skin slapping against skin loud. When they broke apart for breath, Chris was chanting _alpha, alpha, please_ , over and over. Wanton.

“I know what you want, I’ll give you it. Don’t worry, sweetheart.” Because Chris the omega was considerably more charming than Chris the hunter, and caught in the throes of heat, Peter couldn’t imagine denying Chris much. 

His knot formed, but Chris was so loose that Peter didn’t have to stop fucking him until the very last minute. He could look down at the join of their bodies. See his cock disappear into Chris and come out covered in slick. Watch his knot stretch Chris’s rim wide to accommodate him, Chris gone mindless beneath him, making the same throaty moans as earlier. 

Peter came with his teeth buried in the crook of Chris’s neck, slamming deep inside him and coming in a rush. Between them, Chris did too, arching off the bed. 

When Peter rolled them onto their sides, Chris didn’t even protest. He nuzzled his face against Peter’s shoulder, and with a shuddery sigh, passed right out. 

The heat fizzled out half a day later, after Peter knotted Chris one final time, spooned up behind him. The omega was worn out, content to let Peter do the bulk of the work. Everything smelled like sex and satisfaction. Peter pulled out of Chris when he could, and left him to sleep it off. 

He showered. He got dressed, stealing a few things out of Chris’s closet without an ounce of shame. He fished a phone out from the cracks between the couch. It was Chris’s. No notifications aside from a few check in texts from his daughter. Peter ran his thumb over the screen, and paused. He put his number in, and saved it under his name. Because you never knew.

He found his own phone abandoned on the kitchen island. The battery was at 8%, and he had three missed calls and over ten texts from Derek. 

Most of them read along the lines of bad news. Erica and Boyd were missing. Another sacrificial victim was found. Questions about where he was. The world continued to march on, and both Deucalion and the darach were making their moves.

It was time to go. 

With a final look into the apartment, Peter shut the door behind him.

**Author's Note:**

> SIGN UP FOR THE PETOPHER SECRET SANTA [HERE.](https://petophersecretsanta.tumblr.com/post/166381107753/petopher-secret-santa-2017) :) 
> 
> there's not enough a/b/o for them, and not enough chris bottoming.
> 
> [my tumblr.](https://corrosivity.tumblr.com/)


End file.
